Television Review—Netflix’s Lilyhammer

I’m halfway through Netflix’s first original television series, an eight episode series titled “Lilyhammer” that takes place in Lillehammer, Norway. Episodes are 45 minutes long or about 20k on the bike trainer. It’s solid and hopefully a positive sign of things to come from Netflix. Here’s their brief description.

After he testifies against a Mafia boss, ex-gangster Frank Tagliano enters the witness protection program and asks to be sent to Norway. Despite the peaceful surroundings, it’s not long before Frank strays from the straight and narrow.

I dig it and I’m awarding it an “A-“. Full-disclosure, I lived near Lillehammer for a few months five years ago and have fond memories of a ski weekend there, a memorable dinner party, and a school visit where I was the guest teacher. I’m smitten by the setting so adjust your grade at home accordingly. The scenes of the train station, the white farm houses against the snow, the shops in town, the countryside, the ski jump, the Birkebeiner cross country ski race all take me back to that time.

Besides the distinctive and extraordinarily beautiful setting which makes it worthwhile alone, the show works because of the wonderfully authentic and quirky Norwegian cast. Incompetent cops are played out in American television comedies, but their Norwegian counterparts are good for a new and steady stream of cross-cultural laughs. It’s well written, moves at a nice pace, thoughtfully explores cross-cultural differences, and is decently acted.

I deducted half a grade because Steven Van Zandt, of Soprano fame, is too much of a caricature of an American mobster. He could and should be much more nuanced and subtle. Related to this, it will be interesting to see whether Netflix has learned the lesson of the Sopranos. Somehow, despite Tony Soprano’s incredibly flawed nature, he was likable. He could have a guy whacked, or whack him himself, and cheat on his wife. Then when he walked into the kitchen you’d cheer the fact that his favorite pasta was ready and waiting. An unsolvable television mystery.

Four espisodes in, Frank Tagliano or Johnny Henrikssen, isn’t as likable as Tony. I’m not sure whether he has the necessary charisma and charm to compensate for his buffoonery. Also, his romantic relationship with a much younger woman fails the believability test.

Despite those flaws, I’m looking forward to the next four episodes.

Soprano-related postscript—Is there a more powerful portrait of an addict on television than Edie Falco’s Nurse Jackie?

Oklahoma City and Oslo

We must learn very specific lessons from this tragedy to prevent similar ones in the future. First though we need to read and reflect on the horrific accounts, look at the heartbreaking pictures, empathize with the victims and their families, and grieve. The word “tragedy” isn’t sufficient.

We learned from Norwegian friends’ Facebook accounts that two of the dead are from Hamar where we lived for a semester a few years ago. Our closest Norwegian friend’s 19 year-old daughter lives in an Oslo flat. My email generated an automatic reply, because like most Norwegians, she’s on vacation.

There’s no way to eliminate xenophobia, hatred, or evil, but we can monitor fertilizer sales, restrict gun ownership and ammunition sales, and tighten security so that one can’t fake being a police officer.

In starting to problem solve, I’m not heeding my own advice. There will be plenty of time to discuss the lessons and debate how best to limit such colossal acts of violence.

Now is the time to sit in still, sad, solidarity with Norwegians near and mostly far.

Dear Norway

As you know, my grandmother was born and raised in Bern, I lived in Hamar for a few months a few years ago, I loved Elling, Out Stealing Horses was brilliant, my wife drops mad kroner on lefse every Christmas, and my conservative friends think I’m a closet socialist.

I’m writing because I couldn’t help but notice Sweden kicked your ass in the 30K combined.

I’m not applying for the soon-to-be vacant x-country coaching positions, I’m writing to offer my services in the relays.

As your scouts no doubt informed you, I trained under Tore’s expert supervision at Gasbu. Granted, I’m prone to fall when descending, I have a hard time getting into and out of tracks, I’m often off-balance, and I don’t know how to skate.

On the other hand, I can get to Whistler in six-seven hours depending on the border and I may be just the spark the team needs. Car’s packed and I’m awaiting your call. Call now and I will have time to learn how to skate.

In Anticipation,

Ron

p.s. Tell the equipment and clothing peeps that I’m 188cm with a 86cm inseam. And could I get a couple extra tics to the closing ceremonies?

Taking the Call